


Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, McCoy being himself, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty and McCoy find each other over food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

**Author's Note:**

> my first time writing Scotty/McCoy! Written for Ship Olympics over at [](http://st-respect.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://st-respect.livejournal.com/)**st_respect**

If there is one thing he’s learned from his time in Starfleet it’s that Montgomery Scott does not like space rations. He does not like replicated food either. Although he admires the science behind it, the food always comes out tasting bland and a little off. It’s hard to program a machine to understand things like the intricacies that go into making something taste really good. Cooking, Scotty thinks as he crams the last bit of his ham sandwich into his mouth, is more about artistry than science. The food that comes out of a replicator doesn’t taste bad, and it’s perfectly good for you. If you’ve been eating it for long enough Scotty has come to realize you start to notice that the taste is off, things don’t quiet taste as they should. Scotty’s gotten to the point where what he really wants is a sandwich that tastes like a sandwich.

The Enterprise moves at a snail's pace through space as it waits for the ship bearing the new warp core to reach them. Scotty does what he can to repair the damage done escaping the black hole, while trying to re-engineer cargo space as temporary living quarters for the surviving Vulcans. Mostly the work is simply heavy lifting, but there is a lot of it and his engineering crew is down in numbers due to the causalities they had sustained.

He also tries not to wonder about what exactly they are flying towards. There is the high possibility they will be greeted as heroes, but there is also the possibility that they could be discharged or court marshalled. In Scotty’s experience, Starfleet officers who thought and acted out side of the box usually ended up on frozen outposts with no contact to the outside world.

“We need to think positively.” Kirk tells him with his usual cheer in the face of impossible odds. His sunny tone is slightly lessened by the dark circles around his eyes and strain lines at the corners of his mouth.

The other commanding officer to share Scotty’s reservations, of course, is McCoy. “I’ll just be happy if they don’t lock Jim up,” The doctor tells him flatly, ignoring the untouched food in front of him in favor of drinking his tenth cup of coffee that day. “Oh, I’m sure there will be a party and the brass will give speeches out how courageous we all were and how indebted the whole damn planet is, but afterwards . . .” McCoy glares darkly at the table and takes a long swallow of coffee.

“Aye.” It’s a shame - Scotty thinks he’d just gotten used to being on a Starship. He takes a sip of his own coffee and glances up at the other man. McCoy looks tired and worn; his team had been identifying and freezing bodies of the crew members who had lost their lives during the fighting, in addition to tending to the Vulcans. Scotty can easily imagine how hard McCoy must be working these days, and only because his own work load is much the same.

McCoy picks at his potatoes for a moment before giving up and just glaring at them. “Why can’t we replicate any decent food on this God damn ship?”

Scotty frowns at hearing the Enterprise referred to in McCoy's tone of voice. She might have only been his responsibility for a month now, but none-the-less. “The computers. Machines just can’t make truly good food.”

McCoy snorts, “Figures.” He sighs deeply, his face going wistful for a moment. “I can’t wait until we get back to Earth, no matter what happens. I’d like to be on a planet again, with real gravity not all this artificial nonsense.” He glances down at his plate again, “Maybe I’ll even be able to make myself some decent food.”

“Oh, won’t that be nice.” Scotty stretches a little and allows himself to smile, “Food made out of actually grown vegetables, meats and grain. I don’t think I’ve had that since I joined Starfleet. Too bad I’m no good in the kitchen myself.”

His comlink goes off and the panicky voice of an young Ensign tells him that something has gone horribly wrong with one of the purifying units down in engineering. Scotty is on his feet and rocketing towards the door by the time she stops speaking without so much as a backward glance at the doctor on his out.

II.

They don’t get kicked out of Starfleet after all, or banished to any Godforsaken chunk of ice. Scotty doesn’t really understand how Kirk did it, but somehow he had managed to apply his personal methods of persuasion he seemed to be so good at and made sure that not only did they keep their jobs, they got to keep the Enterprise as well.

After the funerals, the speeches and award ceremonies, Spock had started planning for the new Vulcan colony. Kirk had started scheming about what crazy thing he was going to do with the Enterprise next and Scotty started contacting who he needed to recruit onto the engineering crew to make sure they all got back in one piece.

Because the Enterprise needed such heavy repairs in dry dock, the sheer amount of work Scotty was being called to do did not lessen once they hit planetside. While many of the crewmembers went their separate ways for their few months leave, Starfleet tried to figure out what to do with Kirk and Scotty had chosen to stay on the ship.

He is trying to catch his daily three hours of sleep between repairing the Enterprise and arguing with Starfleet bureaucracy when his computer chimes. Groaning a little, he stands up and stomps over to the computer in his boxers and socks expecting it to be an Ensign telling him something’s blown up (again) or a invoice informing him that his parts shipment is coming by way of the Nexus Quadrant and won’t be here for another six months. Instead it’s a voicemail and Scotty blinks when he sees Doctor McCoy’s security code. He hasn’t seen the good doctor in close to a month so, intrigued, he plays the message.

 _“The other day I was remembering that you told me it had been awhile since you had a homecooked meal.”_ The doctor’s drawl fills the small space of Scotty’s quarters. _“I was thinking you could come down to my apartment, and I could cook you dinner, seeing has how you’ve been on the ship and probably haven’t gotten a decent meal yet. It’s not good for people to go that long without eating something that’s been grown in actual dirt, you know.”_ Scotty closes his eyes, lying back down on his bunk; he can almost envision the doctor’s glare. _“I’ve sent you my address in text format. F feel free to drop by any time, just give me a call before you get there.”_

Scotty stares at the ceiling for a few minutes after the message ends. It’s touching that McCoy had remembered their brief conversation, and even moreso to invite Scotty over. Scotty smiles slowly at the uniform gray of his ceiling; it seems he’s made a friend.

McCoy is living in one of the small officers’ apartments just off of the Starfleet Academy campus. The doctor meets Scotty at the door looking strangely out of place, in Scotty’s mind, dressed in civilian clothes; worn jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare. Scotty has brought a bottle of wine to prove that he doesn’t always drink hard alcohol, and is also dressed in civilian clothes; jeans, a buttoned shirt and sweater vest. It’s a little too warm for his outfit in San Francisco and Scotty had been on a climate-controlled ship for so long that he’d forgotten. Still, he finds the need to roll his sleeves up to the elbows once he's inside.

McCoy’s house is plain to the point of almost being undecorated. The only thing that keeps the place looking lived in is the stacks and stack of data cards, PADDs and hologram charts. McCoy makes a soft clicking noise with his tongue as he moves piles of files off of the couch and coffee table before moving into the kitchen with the wine.

“It’s a lovely wine.” He notes pouring two glasses and Scotty ducks his head.

“Thank you, my sister is something of a wine snob.” He laughs a little to himself and rubs one hand across the back of his neck. “She recommended it.”

McCoy gives a surprised chuckle of his own. “How many sisters do you have?”

Scotty reaches out for the glass in the other man’s hand and answers, “Five.”

McCoy’s eyebrows go up at that. “And here I thought growing up with three was bad.” He heads back into the kitchen. “I’m making pork chops for dinner, with salad and rice, I hope that’s all right with you.”

Scotty takes a sip of his wine and sighs contentedly, closing his eyes and leaning back against the couch. “Sounds wonderful to me.”

Another deep chuckle comes from the kitchen. “You’ve been in space far too long, my friend.”

“Don’t I know it,” Scotty mutters and takes another sip of his wine.

Dinner is ridiculously good in Scotty’s opinion. He does manage to have the restraint not to eat until he makes himself sick, though. After the food is gone they finish off the wine over a good, long bitch session over Starfleet bureaucracy and how hard it is to find good staff without the higher-ups butting in.

“Do you know how hard it is to find someone qualified to be head of nursing for a ship like the Enterprise?” McCoy tells him, “Plus, they have to be able to put up with me and Lord knows I have no illusions about how hard that is. So when I tell Starfleet who I want, it’s not a Goddamn suggestion.” He brings out a covered dish, which Scotty discovers is peach cobbler, and then produces a bottle of spiced rum to go with it. They move into the living room with the dessert and Scotty lets himself fall onto the couch with McCoy right beside him.

“A ship the size of the Enterprise should have someone with the rank of Lieutenant, at least, who specializes in each area on the engineering team," Scotty points out while pouring himself a glass of rum. But when I bring it up with Starfleet they always tell me the same thing they don’t simply can’t hire on a bigger engineering team.” He gives a small snort and drains his glass. “Budget cuts my arse. If they were are too cheap to take proper care of the Enterprise then they should never have built her in the first place.” He feels a twinge at the mere idea, but lets it go; it’s ridiculous how possessive he’s becoming of the ship after such a short time.

 

“Then there’s Jim,” McCoy finishes off his own glass, “And all of his hair-brain schemes.”

“He’ll be the death of us all one day,” Scotty acknowledges while pouring himself another glass. “I do admire his spirit though. Not afraid to take chances that one.”

McCoy only snorts in response.

“How long have you known the Captain?” It’s still habit to refer to Kirk as such and Scotty doesn’t think he’s likely to be serving under anyone else in a hurry, if for no other reason then he’s pretty sure no one else will have him.

“Since we enlisted. He was hungover like a sonovabitch and I was well on my way to being drunk. We made a good pair.” Scotty raises his eyebrows at that and McCoy rolls his eyes, “Ever been married Mr. Scott?”

“Scotty,” He corrects him automatically, “And no, I have not had that pleasure.”

“Well don’t.” McCoy grimaces and Scotty searches for something less obviously emotionally volatile to talk about.

 

“You said you have sisters?” He remembers and McCoy nods, his body noticeably relaxing.

“Yeah, three all older then I am.” He gives a half-smile. “I’m the baby of the family. My oldest sister Sarah’s a big shot lawyer, then there is Laura and she’s in law enforcement. Then Julia went all early mid-life crisis on us and is off on some desert colony planet painting sunsets and meditating or something like that.” McCoy smile fades a little, “And I got to be a doctor like our Dad.”

Scotty doesn’t ask what the look McCoy gives his glass is, he just simply nods “I have five sisters, like I said. Some older, some younger. Mary’s an engineer in Starfleet, like me. Tess is an architect with two of the sweetest little girls you’ve ever met. Maddy teaches mathematics at the university as her partner. Hanna’s the sister with good taste in wine. She genetically engineers crops for the colony planets, always off to some colony somewhere while her husband minds the little ones at home. Martha’s an astrophysicist, divorced twice, and now working on a space station somewhere in deep space.”

He takes a breath and sees McCoy’s smile and raised eyebrows. The doctor says, “A lot of M's in your family, aren’t there.”

Scotty bursts out laughing and has to lean against McCoy for support. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops and his head is on the other man’s shoulder, but McCoy doesn’t seem to mind. He only grins and takes a sip of his own drink.

“That’s why I go by Scotty.” He tells McCoy and Scotty knows he should move his head off of the other man’s shoulder but he’s comfortable, pleasantly full with the affects of the bottle of a wine and almost an entire bottle of rum starting to sink in. McCoy skin is warm and he smells of some sort of spicy aftershave and Scotty can see faint stubble starting to appear along his jaw.

McCoy chooses then to turn his head and smile down at the other man in a lazy sort of way and Scotty swallows hard. Now would be a good time to get up, thank the doctor for his hospitality, say goodnight and makes his way back to his quarters. He doesn’t though; instead he smiles back and takes another sip of rum.

“I grew up with my Gran.” McCoy tells him thoughtfully, rubbing one hand cross his jaw. “Me and my sisters, until Sarah and Laura went off the college. While I was in med school I lived with Sarah, then I got engaged and moved in with Jacqueline. We got married while I was in residency, but by the time I went into practice it had all started going to hell.” He sighs, “But you don’t want to sit here and hear me bitch about my ex-wife like some old man.”

Scotty snorts and concentrates on lifting his glass to his lips, “If you’re an old man doctor then I’m ancient.”

McCoy gives him an amused look. “Don’t pretend like you're older then me, Mr. Scott. I’m your doctor, I know better. We’re pretty equal in age, you and I, give or take a few years.”

“Well, old men together then.” Scotty raises his glass in mock salute, and McCoy regards him critically.

“You’re pretty good looking for an old man.” Scotty freezes like that and becomes very aware of their nearness, how they are leaning into each other. He notices the heat of the other man’s body where it pressed against him, thigh against thigh, hip to hip and shoulder against shoulder.

McCoy sighs and then sets his glass on the coffee table with a kind of finality. Scotty can only stare stupidly as McCoy frames his face with both hands and kisses him. For a moment he’s too stunned to respond and then Scotty’s eyes close as he fumbles awkwardly for the table to set down his glass. McCoy makes a soft noise and breaks the kiss for a moment to take the other man’s glass out of his hands and set it aside. Scotty’s hand’s come up to grasp at McCoy’s wide shoulders, his tongue brushing against the other man’s lips until McCoy opens his mouth. Scotty fists his hands in the back of McCoy’s shirt and kisses him for all he’s worth. He tastes of peaches and rum with a little bit of tartness behind it from the vinaigrette they’d had on the salad.

When they break apart to breathe Scotty leans his head against McCoy’s shoulder, and when the other man’s arms are around him, holding him close, McCoy’s body seems to dwarf him. Scotty can hear the other man breathing raggedly in his ear and he can’t believe how much he’s missed this, wanted this, not even let himself think about how much he’s wanted this. He likes McCoy and finds the other man’s wide shoulders and large hands, soft smile and incredible intelligence attractive. Mostly, though, he misses intimacy, both physical and emotional, He simply misses being close to someone.

“We don’t have to do this.” McCoy says softly against the curve of Scotty’s throat, “We’ve both drunk a lot and you’re completely within your right to leave and go back to your quarters. We don’t have to go any farther then this today, or ever if you don’t want to.” Scotty can feel the other man take a long, deep breath against his skin. “But if you want to stay the night,” McCoy tells him, “You’re welcome to.”

They pull back far enough so they can see each other’s eyes. Scotty licks his lips and puts one hand against McCoy’s broad chest so he can feel the other man breathe. He swallows dryly and then looks up at McCoy, “I would like to stay.”

McCoy smiles a slow, sweet smile that Scotty hasn’t seen very often on him, “good.”

 

 

III.

Scotty knows before McCoy even enters his quarters that today had been a stressful day for the other man. It had been a pretty stressful day for him as well, seeing as how he had to send two members of his team to Sickbay with third degree burns, and also dealt with a particularly nasty chemical leak. When McCoy storms into Scotty’s quarters, the other man is in the shower trying to clean off the chemical foam they’d had to pump into the Jeffery tube where the leak had spread. The foam neutralized the specific problematic chemical but it also stank and turned tacky once it dried. Scotty had been unavoidably covered with the stuff.

“Scotty, you there?” McCoy bellows from the front room.

“In the shower.” Scotty yells back, rubbing at his chest, which is, like the rest of his body save his head, disconcertingly devoid of hair. He thinks despite having no hair now, at least he never had a whole lot of body hair to begin with.

 

The shower door opens and McCoy pushes his way into the small space. Scotty has a commanding officer’s quarters, and they can both fit into the shower, but they are pretty close in the small space. McCoy’s eyes are dark and his jaw is set, and Scotty reaches up to touch the other man’s face before McCoy closes the distance and kisses him. They let their lips slip together, tongues touching, as the sonic cleaning waves hit them from all angles. McCoy’s arms wrap around him and Scotty’s hands skim down the other man’s body to grip at his strong backside.

They kiss for several more minutes before McCoy sinks down to his knees and takes Scotty’s cock into his hand. Several long, slow strokes bring Scotty to full hardness. He tries to breathe slowly through his nose as McCoy takes the head of the Scotty’s cock into his mouth. McCoy sucks gently, teasing with his tongue, eyes closed in concentration. Over the last six months they’ve been sleeping together, Scotty’s learned McCoy loves doing this, loves oral sex of any kind more then any other sexual act. The other man takes more of Scotty’s erection into his mouth and Scotty can feel the muscles in the other man’s throat relax. McCoy hums a deep note that makes Scotty’s toes curl. He watches helpless as McCoy’s head bobs, his big hand gently cupping the other man’s balls, long fingers caress the sensitive skin just behind them. Scotty gasps, leaning against the wall as pleasure washes over him, and McCoy pulls back almost all the way and then swallows him down again, and Scotty’s body tenses. His hand comes up and tangles lightly in McCoy’s hair right before his orgasm washes though him, his whole body shuddering with it. He goes limp and McCoy pulls away with a satisfied noise and stands up.

“Come on.” He puts one hand on Scotty’s shoulder and smiles, “Let’s going find ourselves a bed.”

McCoy is a solid log sleeping next to him several hours later, but Scotty can’t sleep. He slips out of bed as quietly as possible. The light on his computer in the main room is flashing at him, probably an inbox full of repair reports he needs to read through and sign off on. He sighs and sinks down into his chair in front of the computer. His mind won’t stay still though; it keeps drifting back to McCoy asleep in the bed in the other room. One of the man’s arms will be thrown out to the side, Scotty knows, the other curled up on McCoy’s chest. The doctor always sleeps like that, when he can sleep at all, because when all is said and done, the man works far too much and worries over everyone.

 

Scotty thinks about how gentle and practical McCoy had been with all the Vulcan refugees on their long voyage back to Earth. He thinks of the way the Captain relies on McCoy and how the doctor lets him be just a man, a very young man, when Kirk needs it most. Even the way the doctor fights with Spock keeps the First Officer alive, keeps the despair they can all sense inside of Spock at bay.

Scotty thinks of the way McCoy holds him and touches him, and the way they laugh together, drink together, cook meals together when they have the fresh grown supplies to do so. Then Scotty thinks of Peter.

He had met Peter when they were both just undergrads; he had been attracted to Peter’s brilliance in genetic engineering, his easy smile, and the way his hair curled around his face. They had started out as friends and study partners, and ended up dating. Peter knew how to make him laugh and could argue science for hours. He knew when Scotty wanted to go out to their favorite pub and when he just wanted to stay in and eat while watching a stupid action flick. Living together had happened naturally, as had intruding him to Scotty’s family. Through the stress of graduate school they’d held each other up and when Peter’s mother had died Scotty had gone with him back to France, attended the funeral with him and held him when he cried himself to sleep the night after. They'd gotten engaged right after Scotty had finally gotten his Ph.D. and Peter was working on his dissertation.

The rest Scotty didn’t understand and probably never would. He didn’t understand why Peter cheated on him, and lying about it for close to two years before Scotty found out. Peter swore up and down that he didn’t love him any less, and in the end Scotty couldn’t find in himself to hate the other man. He couldn’t keep going the way they had before and couldn’t overlook the damage that had been done. Scotty had drifted after that and eventually joined Starfleet.

As far as relationships went, nothing after Peter had been serious. Scotty’s sex life had stopped being about commitment and love after Peter, and sex was just for fun, between friends. He’d thought that’s what it was between him and McCoy, in the doctor’s apartment that day. It wasn't like that anymore though, at least not for Scotty. Scotty knew what his feelings were and knew he needed to talk to the other man about it. Simply, if for no other reason then if McCoy were to sleep with someone else, Scotty wasn't sure what he would do.

The shrill sound of a comlink breaks the quiet of Scotty’s quarters. He’s fumbling for his badge when McCoy comes out of the bedroom already almost all the way dressed and firing off clipped order into his comm.

“On my way.” He tells the caller before breaking the connection and pulling his boots on.

“Emergency?” Scotty asks.

McCoy nods curtly. “Shouldn’t be too bad though. Just have to get down there and make sure none of the patients do anything stupid and mess up my staff's hard work.”

Scotty swallows and wants to ask McCoy to come back to Scotty’s rooms afterwards so they can have that talk. His courage deserts him at the last minute.

“Well good luck then,” He tells McCoy’s retreating back and gets a nod in response before the other man is gone.

IV.

McCoy is drinking a cup of coffee when Scotty finds him in the mess hall several hours later that morning. Scotty sets his own coffee and replicated muffin on the table across from the other man. He watches McCoy stare into his coffee for several minutes before swallowing dryly.

“Leonard?”

The use of his first name in a public setting, something Scotty’s never done before, gets McCoy’s attention. “Yeah?”

Scotty swallows again. “We need to talk.”

McCoy arches an eyebrow at him and takes a sip of coffee. “Well, spit it out,”

“We-” Scotty tries to think of how best to say thing, “I-you know I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better, and all the time we’ve been spending together of late,” he winces internally, “And..” spit it out man, “...And the sex. It’s just that-”

On the other side of the table McCoy has gone very tense and silent, and Scotty can feel himself starting to sweat. God, why couldn’t this being like math; simple, elegant, understandable. “It’s just that I really like you, and I was thinking I’d like it if we tried something different.” His hand feels shaky and fidgety, and he picks up the muffin to give himself something to do. “Something like maybe dating.”

There is a long silence and Scotty looks down to find he’s crushing his muffin into fine crumbs on the tray. He looks up in time to watch McCoy rub both hands across his face. Suddenly the other man smiles at him, “Well, we’ve done this all backwards haven’t we?”

 

Scotty blinks and it takes him a minute to figure out that McCoy is refering to the fact that they’ve been sleeping together and quisi-living together for several month now and yet had only just talked about dating. He finally smiles back with a little, tentative, “I suppose we have.”

“And stop giving me that look like your expecting me to crush all your hopes and dreams.” McCoy stands up and takes the plate of muffin crumbs from Scotty’s tray to put it on his own tray. He pauses and stands next to the table, looking down at the other man. He smiles again, slow and real. “I like you a lot too, you know, Mr. Scott.”

The doctor’s comlink crackles and he slaps at it irritably before picking up his tray. “I’ll see you after shift,” He tells Scotty. His frown is still in place, but his eyes are soft.

Scotty watches him stride off across the mess hall to the waste dispenser and then out the door before allowing himself a soft smile of his own.


End file.
